


two to tango

by girlsarewolves



Category: Sucker Punch (2011)
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non graphic smut, references to attempted rape and other triggery things, so not compliant with that canon, written before the unrated cut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first time she's danced with a partner; he lets her lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two to tango

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



> Written back before the unrated cut came out. Trigger warnings for references to alcoholism, abuse, molestation, and rape/attempted rape. This could also be seen as dub-con.

* * *

First thing she notices - he tastes nothing like Blue. Her tongue comes into contact with his, and she tastes strong liquor, not sure what kind but it isn't whiskey. Baby Doll could almost sigh in relief. She hates whiskey. (Step-father reeks of that awful smell again, and Mother's crying, but she locks herself and her sister in her bedroom where only the shouting can reach them.)

He starts to lead, and at first she almost lets him; she saw him leading every time her nervous imagination got the better of her. She saw him ripping her clothes (with buttons hitting the floor) and pawing roughly at her everywhere he could touch. But Baby Doll hasn't spent the last five days dancing to let someone else lead her; a dance is a dance, and she's certain she can find the rhythm without his help.

The High Roller doesn't try to force her to follow him. He sits back while she straddles, and there's a devious twinkle in his eye. He smiles (it's pleased and maybe a little triumphant - or is that her? - but it's not sinister or a barely concealed leer that she feels slithering underneath her skin).

She can lead. No problem.

Baby Doll licks her lips and unbuttons each tiny button down his shirt. Her fingers reach his pants, and she feels a rush much like the one that went through her when her fingers felt the knife while Blue was too distracted by her body (and she wasn't even dancing) to notice. It's not a knife she's found; but she's opening the fly of his pants, and for once it doesn't make her sick when she feels the affect she has on a man.

(The priest isn't trying to force her head down there. Blue isn't trying to hold her legs open so he can push it in. Step-father isn't trying to hold her hand against it while whispering threats about going to her sister's room if she doesn't behave.)

She leans forward and presses her mouth to his. She sucks in his breath, because he's free; she wants to know what that tastes like. Why not get a sample to know what it is she's buying right now? Not that she minds. In the back of her head, she hears an old man's voice telling her that freedom isn't free.

(Sounds silly, but he was full of tired but true wisdom like that.)

The High Roller rubs her thighs where stockings meet skin. He sits on the bed and lets her lead but never stops touching her. He breathes heavily, and his eyes are hungry; he stares at her like he sees right through her (like he's piercing through her walls and exploring all the fantastical and twisted thoughts in her head, finding every memory she's ever hidden).

Baby Doll wants to dance for him. The steady gaze doesn't make her nervous this time. Besides, he's not just her audience; he's her partner.

His shirt is open but still on. His pants are undone just enough for him to join in. He watches her and makes no move to undress her; she stands and slides the white cotton down without revealing a thing. He smirks; now he makes a move, pulls her back on and lets down her hair (which takes her by surprise, because isn't that part of what they like?).

"Just let go," he whispers in her ear.

And Baby Doll lets go. Her eyes close (in her head, she hears the music - the soothing music that means she's safe, it's all safe, for all of them), and she dances with the High Roller. There's a sharp sting, and her eyes water. But she doesn't cry. It's not something to cry over; she has the power to make this something good or something bad, and she so desperately wants it to be something good. So she blinks back her tears and continues their dance.

It's perfect. It's slow and steady, and then it's fast and frantic. It's up close, grinding against each other, and then it's time for air, space between them though they never stop. She leads, and he follows closely, and it's perfect. Not because the pain goes away, not because it's all she ever wanted - but because she _makes it_ all she ever wanted.

And when it's over (her eyes wide open and staring at the startled face hovering above her) she's in paradise. Basking in the afterglow. The pain fades away, and the guilt and regret are gone, and the High Roller really is a man of his word. She's finally free.


End file.
